


Blue

by Liraeyn



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liraeyn/pseuds/Liraeyn
Summary: In a world of magic, dragons, and toads that are actually frogs, one small difference can lead to a world of repercussions.  Inheritance Cycle AU.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Blue

Eragon sank to the ground on the side of the trail, Carvahall barely in sight. Exhaustion loomed, but more immediately concerning was the tiny pebble that had worked its way into his shoe. Amazing how something barely the size of a crumb could be so irritating. 

The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and an overwhelming urge to flee took over. Only the fact that he was half-barefooted stopped him from slipping deeper into the woods without even bothering to look back. As it was, he strung his bow, knocked an arrow, and held it ready for whoever else it was had dared to venture into the Spine. 

“Nice to see you, too.” 

Eragon relaxed. “Oh hi, Murtagh. Or did I screw up your name again?” 

Murtagh laughed and sat next to him. “No, you seem to have finally gotten your brain around it.” 

Eragon wouldn’t have called the slightly older man a friend, but they had met several times during the traders’ visits. He lived in Therinsford with a man called Brom. At least, that had been true as of last winter. 

“Out hunting?” 

Murtagh shrugged. “Brom died a while back. I just wanted to get away from all the people offering sympathy like they actually cared. They didn’t. His stories were too weird and terrifying for most of the people. They just threw money at him to make him go away.” 

That, Eragon could understand. Brom and Murtagh had never seemed quite welcome in Carvahall, just accepted as an occasional inevitability. He’d thought it was different in Therinsford, but apparently not. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The two sat in silence, watching the sunset. Murtagh finally broke the quiet with a painfully transparent attempt to start a conversation: 

“Catch anything, mighty hunter?” 

That drew nothing but a dejected sigh. “Nope. I was  _ about _ to, then the doe got scared off.” 

“Stepped on a twig, did you?” 

“No, I-” Eragon hesitated, aware this was a turning point. If he told Murtagh about the stone, it was no longer a secret, and then the whole event became more real. And yet, why not? He’d done nothing wrong by just picking up the darned thing, right? 

_ Right? _

“This weird blue stone just appeared out of nowhere. Loud bang, scared everything off. Scared me too, come to think of it. Anyway, I was kind of curious, so...” 

That brought an exasperated sigh from Murtagh, who shook his head slowly. “...you know what curiosity did to the proverbial werecat, right?” 

“...and I figured maybe I could sell it or something, so here we go.” 

Eragon reached into his pack and pulled out the stone. “Ta da.” 

Murtagh startled, then reached for it with an expression of... reverence? That made no sense, but who cared. That sort of thing could come in handy. 

“It did cost me a deer’s worth of meat, so I think it kind of owes me for that. If an inanimate object can owe anyone anything.” 

“It’s not-” Murtagh cut himself off. “Tell you what. I’ll buy it.” 

He pulled out a bag of coins and tossed it at Eragon, who caught it easily. 

“Don’t spend it all in one place. People will have questions.” 

“...you just spent it all in one place.” 

That earned Eragon a roguish grin from his new best friend. “Ah, but  _ I _ just paid you enough that you won’t bother asking questions, now will you? Or... answering them.” 

“Questions about what?” 

“Now you’ve got it.” 

The two parted with a wave, and Eragon left for home with a bag of coins he had no idea how to explain. But there were far worse problems to have. 

X 

“Leave us.” 

Morzan’s voice, still marked with that peculiar twang Selena had once found so attractive, now only inspired a thrill of alarm. She’d hoped to be either healed or dead before he came back. He would know. He would know instantly what was wrong with her and track Eragon down and do Heaven only knew what- 

“Selena.” 

_ That _ wasn’t Morzan’s voice. She opened her eyes with inordinately heavy lids. 

“Brom?” 

The two of them were alone in the sunlit room. Brom’s face was inches from her own, his hands running through her hair. “Stay with me, love. Let me help you.” 

“I- don’t think you-” 

“Shh. Just try to rest.” 

One whisper-sung spell later, and her breathing eased. But it wasn’t enough. It could never be. The violent seizures that had hit almost as soon as she returned to the castle had left a mark that no magic could heal. Would it have made a difference, if she’d stayed in Carvahall long enough to properly recover from the birth? 

“We have a son.” 

That statement, surprisingly simple, apparently caught Brom off-guard. 

“Where? I mean-” 

“Carvahall. I couldn’t- if Morzan found him-” 

“Right. Well. Morzan’s dead. You don’t need to worry about him, ever.” 

Relief and an odd sense of  _ triumph _ washed over her. She had outlived her once-lover turned tormentor. 

“You’re going to be fine, Selena. We’ll get you fixed up.” 

“Liar.” 

To that, Brom didn’t even argue. He simply brushed her hair back and kissed her on the forehead. And that was enough. 

“Look after Murtagh?” 

“Of course.” 

X 

_ That _ had been close. Must have been fate, that brought Murtagh to his supposed-to-be brother right after the latter had just found an entire dragon egg. 

Of course, it had  _ actually  _ been a bit of mind-searching. Eragon’s mind, so carefree and full of joy compared to his own, he’d touched a few times before and could recognize. The smaller, dreaming one had triggered some long-buried memory of his not-father’s dragon. Full of knowledge packed into their genetic inheritance. A burst of magic, of that power he mostly understood but to his frustration still lacked, had drawn him towards the Spine, and the rest, as they say, would get erased from history sooner or later. 

Just how close  _ had _ he come to admitting to Eragon that the “stone” was  _ not _ an inanimate object after all? 

Tucked safely into his backpack, the unhatched dragon thrummed with energy. “ _ Hello there _ ,” he thought in its direction. “ _ I’m going to look after you _ .” 

A semi-conscious acknowledgement came through, which left Murtagh inordinately pleased. Like visiting someone’s house, and their resident feline finds  _ your _ lap worthy on which to purr. 

That evening, Murtagh roasted a bird over the fire, more out of habit than anything. He was too agitated to be hungry. About nine-tenths of him was sure that the egg was the same one that had gotten his “father” killed  _ good riddance _ and therefore the Varden’s dragon egg had been the subject of theft. The other options were that one of the other two had been stolen from the King  _ may he drop dead tonight _ or that there were dragon eggs somewhere else. 

All three of which were cause for concern. Which meant that it was time. At least he had a bargaining chip where he was planning to go. They’d never trust him without it. 

A squeak tore through the night. 

X 

The big red creature had never quite been as terrifying as the man who rode him. But now  _ they _ were the ones riding him, and therefore everyone else should be frightened of  _ them _ . 

If only Selena were here to see them. 

They’d buried her on a beautiful day, covered in the flowers she’d loved so much. At least she was somewhere nice. But he still missed her. 

Brom held Murtagh close, both of them swaddled in blankets and whatever else. It was cold and windy flying around on a- 

Dragon, right? But he couldn’t think of their mount as such. 

They camped for the night near a cluster of foothills, and Murtagh couldn’t resist climbing up to look at the view. Brom followed him, shouting half-hearted instructions to be careful. After so long cooped up and unable to walk, then clutching a flying lizard for an entire day, the two of them needed to stretch their legs. 

The view from the top was hardly impressive after a day flying over the plains, but still it appealed. Three fallen trees bridged a small ravine, at the bottom of which a stream flowed leisurely from rapids to waterfall to pool. The water in the pool was so clear that tadpoles and their respective shadows could be seen even in the fading daylight. 

Dinner -boiled gruel, spit-roasted meet courtesy of their nameless transportation, and a few sliced potatoes fried on a rock- sent Murtagh to sleep almost immediately. Brom covered him in a blanket and just sat there with the big red lizard. After a while, a wordless question came from it, something like “ _ Do you want to talk _ ?”. 

“I feel like I failed you. And Morzan. And Selena.” 

“ _ Elaborate _ .” 

That command was verbal, somehow. It only referred to Brom, so perhaps that was a way around the odd spell that erased thirteen names. The Forsworn’s companions could barely speak, usually using only impressions to communicate. When they’d settled on their current arrangement, Brom had needed to translate before he could respond. 

_ You’ve killed my Rider, but not only do I forgive you, I thank you. We were miserable under Galbatorix’s control, and you have freed both of us. I know where Selena is, and will take you to find her if it’s not too late. _

And then, of course, offering to take him to the baby. 

“I should have known Morzan was... troubled. He was my friend. I should have stopped him. Before he went that badly wrong and I had to kill him. I- that’s not something I can forgive myself for.” 

There was no real response to that. Then the creature sent Brom an image of flying out across the ocean to see what lay to the west, trying to make a fresh start and maybe earn a new name. But that would be after seeing Brom and the child safely to their destination. 

Knowing that such time was limited, Brom strove to enjoy every single moment of their flight. He could only hope that Murtagh was old enough to remember it. 

X 

“Hello in there.” 

The tiny, immature dragon sent out a flick of thought as a response. Murtagh had never been particularly good at reaching out that way despite Brom’s teaching, focusing instead on defense. But now, he would have to learn. A whole lot of things were about to change. 

Chunks of blue eggshell lifted from the underlying membrane. Both of them had protected the new dragon for untold decades, but they were no longer needed as the little one cut its way free. The egg lay securely in Murtagh’s lap where he’d placed it as soon as he realized what was going on. Hidden in some unknown clearing, they were as safe as they could be. 

Over the next few minutes, the blue dragon crawled her way out of the remains of the egg. Murtagh held out his right hand for her to sniff, which she did. After a moment, she flicked her head to look directly into his eyes and, without breaking eye contact, jabbed her head into his hand with all the arrogance of a cat pushing a mug of ale off the counter. 

The effect was immediate. Blue flashed through Murtagh’s vision, accompanied by a violent shriek and the odd sensation of his blood turning to ice. Or rather, what he imagined such a sensation would be, since he’d never actually experienced such a thing. As was evidenced by the fact that he was still alive. 

By the time he finally regained equilibrium, the tiny blue dragon was curled up on his lap, purring. He petted her as he would a cat, and the purring increased to the point where she had to stop to catch her breath. 

“Silly little dragon.” 

X 

The red one, true to his not-word, flew straight into the setting sun as soon as Brom and Murtagh settled into Therinsford. He’d decided against Carvahall after a brief visit to check on the baby. Eragon was safe enough with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. Drawing attention to his almost-wife’s birthplace would only endanger him and the others. 

Murtagh, on the other hand, would be living with him. Already, the child had been touched by enough magic to guarantee he would never be entirely normal. It would be good for him to have a mentor, a father figure, who understood such things. Besides which, he had promised Selena. 

Before leaving Morzan’s castle, Brom had taken what he could of the money stashed therein. It was plenty to buy a small house near the river, and provide some comforts. He did have to find a job, however, as town storyteller. It wouldn’t do to let the entire world know how much gold was tucked into a box that was bigger on the inside than the outside. Or, come to think of it, that such a box existed. 

The child made few friends in Therinsford, but that was of little concern to Brom. They visited Carvahall now and then, and he introduced himself to Eragon’s family. Garrow and Marian were so polite, he knew they didn’t like him all that much, but the children got along well enough, Eragon toddling after his brother and cousin, who stopped their roughousing to grab a hand each and swing him between them.  _ That _ brought a smile from Marian, at least. 

Over the following years, Brom and Murtagh visited Eragon as often as they could excuse. Harvest festivals, yay-the-planting-is-done celebrations, visits by the traders. Brom told Eragon and the others what stories of the Riders he could get away with, and the child devoured them like they were the only food in Alagaesia. In a way, Brom supposed that was true. 

X 

_ Borrowed _ . Not  _ stolen _ . Obviously. 

The horse in question wouldn’t be missed, at any rate. Some nameless chestnut, he’d been exiled to a pasture when no longer needed. He would probably enjoy the adventure, come to think of it. 

Murtagh’s final visit to Therinsford was painfully brief. He stopped home long enough to grab some clothing, food, blankets, a cooking pot, the box of money, his not-father’s sword, and a few books. He put everything in the equally borrowed saddlebags, leaving his backpack for the dragon, wrapped in a blanket and hopefully, happy to stay quiet in there until they were safely- 

“It’s okay, little blue. We’re going somewhere safe.” 

She growled at that, but sent a half-formed acknowledgement through the link.  _ Right. We need to find something better than “little blue”. _

They left in the middle of the night, Murtagh locking the door behind him. There were wards on both the house and the contents, but it was unlikely anyone would bother with it anyway. So no worries. Or so he told himself. His baby dragon was more important, anyway. 

X 

Then came the plague. 

Brom had healed Marian’s earlier illness without her even noticing, but this one was too much for him. Many of the others in Therinsford were sick with the same- a hacking cough, fatigue so crushing many could not walk, and a strange loss of the ability to smell. The town leaders refused to allow anyone else into the town, or anyone to leave. The small band of fur traders who happened to be passing through griped to no end, but ultimately admitted it was necessary. 

Months passed, and cases dwindled. The mass grave on the opposite side of the river was finally covered over, and there was some hope that by spring planting, they would be able to allow traders in with seed. The end was in sight. 

Or a different sort of end. 

The moon had been shining through Murtagh’s window -a horrible, half-squashed gibbous moon that looked oddly horrifying, given it only looked that way at the ungodly hour of why-on-this-green-earth-am-I-awake-now. At first, he thought he’d only woken by chance, then he heard Brom coughing. A harmless enough sound in any other time. Murtagh tried to go back to sleep and pretend this wasn’t happening, because  _ this can’t be happening, not to us _ , but to little purpose. 

A flicker of thought brought him to the door, where he could hear Brom’s fast, shallow breath. Murtagh called out to him, but there was no response. Brom’s thoughts flicked to his, faint as if in sleep. There were no words, only a few traces of desires. To see Eragon, which was obviously not an option. To fly again on a dragon, equally so. For Murtagh to know that Brom was proud of the child he had raised. 

That last one, Murtagh could fulfill. 

Murtagh melded his thoughts with Brom’s as the latter faded into darkness.  _ It’s okay. I’m proud to consider you my father. I will look after Eragon.  _

By the time the sun rose, Brom was gone. 

X 

“ _ Murtagh _ .” 

“ _ Well hi there _ .” 

Confusion crossed as the only response, and he chuckled. “I suppose you need to learn more words before that will work.” 

Given the impending sunset, Murtagh decided to make camp and teach his baby lizard some words. He built a fire near the edge of an overgrown field, with some overhanging trees. Untacking and picketing the horse went quickly enough, and then he tended to... 

“ _ You need a name _ .” 

A questioning thought. 

“ _ Name _ _ , like mine is Murtagh.  _ _ That _ _ is a horse, this is food... _ ” He sent her an image of Brom, from when his sort-of father had taught him how to fight. “ _ His name was Brom. It’s the sound people can make when they want your attention _ .” 

The dragon poked at him with her mind, as if to question why she would need such a thing when the only other person she’d encountered could just touch her mind. 

“ _ Fair enough, but we’re going to meet other people eventually, and they need something to call you, so... Anyway, paired dragons usually have names, unless they were taken away. Let’s see, Brom’s was called Saphira- _ ” 

“ _ Saphira. Murtagh _ .” 

That seemed to settle it. 

Saphira curled up next to Murtagh to sleep, purring through a cloud of smoke. He petted her gently, tweaking a few scales in the wrong direction just because he could. 

“Everything’s going to be fine, Saphira.” 

She sent him a half-formed  _ how do you know _ . 

“We’re going to visit the elves.” 


End file.
